


Step-By-Step

by Allekha



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Character Development, Extra Treat, Fire Emblem: Three Houses Blue Lions Route, Five Times, Fluff, Food, Gen, Parent-Child Relationship, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-05
Updated: 2019-11-05
Packaged: 2021-01-23 07:48:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21316678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Allekha/pseuds/Allekha
Summary: Byleth comes to see Jeralt on her free days, and as the weeks go by, Jeralt notices how life at the monastery is changing her.
Relationships: Jeralt Reus Eisner & My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 19
Kudos: 104
Collections: Trick or Treat Exchange 2019





	Step-By-Step

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pleurer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pleurer/gifts).

> Happy no-longer-Halloween :)

Jeralt's first week back at the monastery is not a pleasant one. Rhea keeps _smiling_ at him, there isn't enough alcohol to drink, and Alois's bright cheerfulness is too much. He hardly sees his kid at all, too, though at least he knows that Byleth can take care of herself. Even if she is stuck babysitting a bunch of noble kids.

On the weekend, Byleth shows up in the office Rhea gave him. (It's one of the rooms closest to her chamber, of course.) "Teaching is difficult," she says.

"I'm sure it is," he says, nodding. He's taught Byleth, of course, but that was one-on-one, and she was always a smart, talented girl. And leading a group of mercenaries through exercises can't be the same thing as trying to instruct a bunch of teenagers with no experience beyond sparring. "Did the other professors give you any advice?"

She puts her hand to her cheek. "I haven't asked," she admits.

"I've spoken to them a little. They seem like decent people, so you should ask. And those brats aren't giving you any trouble, are they?"

Byleth shakes her head. "They're nice," she says. She raises her hands and starts counting on her fingers: "Ingrid is focused through every class and helps to clean up at the end of the day. Annette is enthusiastic and always volunteers to help. Sylvain seems too lighthearted, but he made an insightful comment yesterday. Felix is excellent with swords and a practical fighter. Mercedes is sweet and the best with healing spells. Dedue is strong and quiet. Ashe is a hard worker and good at pairing with others. Dimitri... he broke three weapons in sparring this week. But he was apologetic every time and tried to make it up." She nods to herself. "They are nice."

He had seen how the prince interacted with Byleth – all three of the young lords had been fighting for Byleth's attention on the way back to the monastery, and Dimitri had been polite and earnest, trying to ask about Byleth's sword technique and agility. Jeralt couldn't tell how much of their compliments and eagerness had been them trying to win over Byleth for themselves, and how much had been genuine admiration of the older, skilled fighter who had saved them.

"I think that's the longest I've heard you talk about anything that isn't battle tactics in a long time," he says, smiling. Byleth has always been quiet; she didn't start to speak until she was past old enough that he was worried she never would. "Sounds like they're staying in line so far. That's good."

"We have a mock battle tomorrow. I'll see how they do."

"As long as they listen to you, your group will win," he says. Byleth doesn't smile at the prospect or at his faith in her, but she does give one of those short, sharp nods of hers.

Her group wins the fight, of course. Jeralt learns this when he steps into the dining hall for dinner and sees a table of loud students chatting far more cheerfully than any of the others, sitting around a silent Byleth.  


Jeralt's seen this kind of scene more than once before – Byleth wordlessly picking at her third plate of food while the mercenaries around her celebrated a hard-fought victory. He should be used to it. But it seems sadder when she's surrounded by smiling teenagers, not fellow warriors, and still doesn't have the slightest expression on her face.

~!~

Byleth comes and visits every weekend when both of them are at the monastery. She updates him about her week – it sounds like she is starting to adapt to the teaching role, to his surprise – and borrows his books on tactics to read.

This time, though, she sits across from him on one of the couches in his office and hands him a small box in place of one of her silent greetings. "What's this?" he asks, opening it. Inside are a few cute little buns, a kind that the nicer bakeries around here sell. He's seen them in shop windows before. "Thanks, kid."

Jeralt has never been a special fan of sweets, but he's not going to turn them down when presented to him, either. Especially not when they're from Byleth. She always did like bringing him her caught fish and game and gathered berries, bread she bought in town, presenting it to him with her big, serious eyes. He thinks it's her way of showing affection.

He takes one of the buns and hands the box back over. Byleth promptly crams one into her mouth. "You just got back from fighting those bandits, right? How did that go? I heard that everyone came back in one piece, at least."

"The fight went well," Byleth says, then pauses. Jeralt lets her take her time, nibbling at his bun while he waits. It's been soaked in honey, and leaves his fingers sticky afterwards. "Some of the students took it more easily than others. Not all of them have killed before."

"That's tough, the first time," Jeralt acknowledges. He can still remember the first time he ended a life, even all these decades and decades later. "Some of the knights will always struggle with it. They at least have time to get used to the idea before the next mission Rhea is sending you on, right?"

Byleth nods, slowly, her eyes distant. "The next one will be harder. Not bandits. Ashe's adoptive father."

Ashe is one of her little students, he can remember that much. "He did something that bad?"

"Rebellion against the church." 

Jeralt snorts. But now that Byleth's here, she won't have much of a choice about whether to fight for the church or not. Not like before, when he could decide whether any job was worth doing or not. "Ouch. Did he hurt anyone?"

Byleth shrugs. "Rhea didn't say. But he has troops, and he will fight the Knights." She pauses. "She is sending a knight with us. Catherine. Ashe likes knights."

"I know Catherine." Not well, but now that he's back, he's had to catch up with who's who among the Knights, and he's sparred with her a few times. "She's an amazing fighter. She won't let any of them die any more than you will."

"They won't get hurt." Byleth says it with conviction, which is unusual for her. Maybe she's getting attached.  


It's not a bad thing, Jeralt thinks. He's thought, sometimes, about whether it was right to bring her up among the mercenaries, always traveling. Of course he had wanted to protect her and hide the both of them from Rhea, but it's hard not to wonder if some of her oddities aren't just from whatever was done to her as a baby. There's something more buried inside her, he's sure of it – it's there in her bringing him food and wanting to walk next to him when they traveled, never with anyone else. It doesn't come out very much, though.  


Anyway, she's already here; Rhea probably suspects, though Jeralt will continue to insist that she can't be the baby who was born here. She's old enough to make her own choices, and if she finds she likes herding around the noble kids, she can decide to do that. Jeralt can't cocoon her away from other people any longer, only do his best to continue making sure his daughter is safe.

~!~

Byleth brings him wine. Jeralt prefers beer, but wine's not bad, and she takes the cup he offers. His office is dim – too dim, he'd prefer new, bright windows over the old, dirty ones and the flickering candles – but even in this light, he can see the pleasing red of the wine as he pours it out.

It's okay, for wine. He sits down with her and takes a second sip; she mirrors him, blinking over the rim of her cup. He wonders if she likes it or not; it's difficult to tell.

"Dimitri," she says, "is a good...." She draws her eyebrows together, thinking.

"Brat?" he suggests, smiling at the juxtaposition. Byleth shakes her head at him.

"We had to kill Lonato. Ashe's father. It was difficult for him. Dimitri asked me afterward if it was necessary. If our cause was just, or if Lonato's was just." She nods to herself. "It is good for a king to be concerned about these things."

"Sounds idealistic," Jeralt says. "You think he meant it?"

"He does," she says, all confidence. "It troubled him, that we could not find another path, that we were fighting the citizens he will protect someday soon." She takes another sip. "He is idealistic. But it's true idealism."

"We'll see if that lasts," says Jeralt. "It'd be nice if it could. His father wasn't a bad ruler, far as I know – maybe a bit too idealistic himself. Considering the power squabbles these nobles get into, though...."

Byleth stares at him over her cup, blinking slowly. Jeralt raises an eyebrow and shrugs at her. Fine. She's the one spending all day with the kids. If she encourages him being a decent person, maybe that will help it stick and do some good in the world.

"How're other things going? I heard one of your students won this month's tournament."

That gets her talking – about Felix and how he defeated the others in the tournament, about Mercedes and how she's started taking over a few of the classroom tasks to help Byleth, about Ingrid and a recent adventure in the pegasus stables. Byleth certainly gets chatty about them, or at least, chatty for her. She still speaks more quietly in personal conversation than most people, still needs moments to collect her thoughts, and she's still not smiling, but Jeralt swears there's something brighter about her when she talks about them.  


"Do you like teaching?" he asks when she's readying to leave, tugging her coat straight.

Byleth takes her time thinking over her answer. "It's difficult," she says. "I'm practicing at it. I like the students." She tilts her head, her eyes flickering somewhere before she looks at him again. "I think I like it."

"Should've tried setting you up to train some of the men," he says, standing to put the wine away. She never would have taken the initiative on her own. She'd never talked about her future, or raised the possibility of doing anything else with her life other than follow Jeralt around forever, fighting battles and doing chores in the camp.

Now she has to make her own decisions every day, talk with people, all kinds of new things. She can't be the Ashen Demon here, the silent daughter of the infamous Blade Breaker; she has to be Byleth, teacher at the Academy. She's taking to it well so far. Maybe someday she'll even choose to do something else altogether - choose, for herself, instead of following in his footsteps with no indication that she cares what she does. The way a child should, growing up. Jeralt hopes she does.

~!~

"Tea? You know I'm not a tea person."

Byleth holds up the tea pot and covered basket. "Tea," she repeats.

Well, at least some time outside, away from his dim office, will do him some good. Jeralt could use a break, anyway. "All right, all right," he says, putting away his paperwork and standing up.

Outdoors, the weather is fresh and sunshiney, a subtle breeze blowing. Students mill around the grounds of the monastery, chatting, gossiping. Some gaze admiringly at the two of them as they pass; Byleth waves to a few who greet her.

Byleth sets them up in a quiet corner, hidden behind hedges. There's no fire, but she holds her hand to the pot, and Jeralt can see the faint flicker of magic. "Been practicing?" Byleth had never taken too much interest in magic as a kid, though some of the mercenaries had tried to teach her.

She nods. "I think Felix is better at magic than he thinks he is," she says. "And Mercedes asked to start learning more Reason magic recently, as well. So we've been working on it together, with Annette's help."

"I remember one of the mercenaries said she thought you had a talent for Faith magic, but you never got that far, did you?"

"Rhea has been trying to teach me," she says, and Jeralt frowns. It's not a bad thing for her to learn, but something in him always crawls when he sees the way Rhea looks at Byleth. "It wasn't going as well as she'd hoped. So I asked Mercedes, and she talked about praying and the Goddess, but I don't have her sort of faith, either."

"Don't blame you. Never did take you to a church growing up, did I?" He hadn't been about to risk it, and it wasn't like begging the Goddess before the alter would fix whatever was off about Byleth. He has a lot less faith in her now than he used to, anyway.  


Byleth pretends to think, putting one hand to her face while the other continues heating the tea pot. "I don't remember ever being in one." She removes her hand from the steaming teapot and rifles through the basket for the tea, setting out a plate of cookies while she is at it. "Mercedes told me about growing up in a church, and how it inspired her. How it felt. And I realized that how she feels about praying to the Goddess is like how I feel with those I fight with."

"You sound really fond of them," Jeralt observes. Her face is softer when she talks about them, more and more as the weeks go by. That is new since coming here. "You never got like that with our group. I remember one of them once told me that I must have raised the sorest loser of all time, since you never seemed to bond with them, but would fight as fiercely as anyone to defend them."

"Felix asked me recently what I fight for," she says. "I said to protect the people of Fódlan. But I think especially to protect the people I fight with. That was true then, too." She fidgets with the tea pot, checking to see if it's steeped enough yet. "I did an exercise in the field with my class this week, and we discussed teamwork on the way back. How trust in each other and knowledge of each other's strengths makes a group fight more efficiently. They've been getting along better recently. Sylvain acts more seriously. Sometimes I hear Felix say something kind when someone does well. Annette remembered all her equipment this time. Dedue... still stands out, but there are fewer difficulties than before."

"Sounds like what a real leader should be doing. I'm proud of you, kiddo. It's not everyone who can bring together a group and put up with their personal conflicts to make them work well."

Byleth is silent for a long few moments, pouring their tea and then staring at it. "It's warm," she says. "The feeling. It's warm."

Then she looks up at him and smiles. Jeralt starts. "Good," he says, not able to say much more, because _Byleth is smiling_. His kid, who never grinned for presents or praise or victories, is sitting there with a perfectly good smile. It's only the second time he's ever seen it.  


It's small, like all of Byleth's limited expressions; it fades as she reaches for a cookie. But it was there, and it was real. He didn't imagine the first one.  


Being here has done her some good after all. It melts some of the worry in Jeralt's heart.

"So when I think of that, the magic works," she says. "I practiced with it, and I can cast a real healing spell now."

"Useful stuff. I never managed it, though I certainly put in some effort." His wife had been better at magic than he was; she'd patiently attempted to teach him basic healing, since that was always useful in an emergency, but it had never taken. "Look at you, learning things your old man never accomplished."

Byleth doesn't _quite_ smile again. But on hearing the compliment, there's a change in her eyes, in her face, that warms him more than the bitter tea. 

~!~

Jeralt worries about Byleth sometimes – for all her competency, she is still his kid – but he worries less about some things as time goes by and she entrenches herself further into life at the monastery. He sees her handing flowers out to students – almost like her mother, which sends a pang in his chest – and he starts to notice that she spoils them with gifts when he walks around the monastery on the weekends.

"Do they need so many presents?" he asks her one morning, after seeing her hand a book so new the pages aren't cut to a student he doesn't recognize.

"It makes them happy," she says, but then she frowns.

"Make sure you can afford it," he says, guessing at why she's making that face. (Part of him is still happy to see her making any full expressions at all.) "Maybe I should have taught you more about the financial side of running a mercenary band."

"I can afford it. They pay me." She straightens and taps a fist on an open palm. "I'll see you later." And with that, she sprints off, her shoes clacking along the pavement.

Odd. But Byleth's always been odd. His odd kid who has never had a heartbeat and has only just learned to smile and who can cleave a monster in two. Jeralt shakes his head and turns towards his office, ready to get some work done.

When he sees her again in the afternoon, she has a whole gaggle of students following her, like a bunch of ducklings trailing their mother. There are rather more than seven of them now. He has to stop and suppress a smile at the eager way they follow her quick stride.

Then Byleth spots him, and she changes direction immediately and speeds up even more, leaving the poor students confused in her wake as she runs over. "We're going to have dinner over a campfire," she tells him, brandishing the basket she's holding. He can guess what's in it by the smell. "I caught a lot of fish to cook."

"Any particular occasion for it?" She shakes her head. "Well, have fun out there." Nobody's going to get into too much trouble in the woods and fields near the monastery, least of all Byleth.

"The knights are coming, too," she says. "You should eat with us."

"Really?" He rubs the back of his head. The swarm of students has paused, waiting for Byleth, arguing and laughing and for a couple of them, hanging off the edges of the crowd like they're going to bolt away out of fear. He's glad that they've unlocked something in Byleth, but that doesn't mean he wants to spend any time with them. "I think you'll have more fun without me hanging around in the background."

Byleth shakes her head – not small and contained, like she usually does, but big movements that fling her hair around her face. "There's a lot of fish," she says, and then she reaches out and tugs on his arm, staring at him.

He's used to that stare, but the thought crosses his mind that she'll smile if he says yes, and that a meal outside the monastery walls might be nice. "All right," he sighs, and her face does indeed light up, the corners of her mouth turning into the small smile he's only seen a couple of times. She still isn't the most expressive person in the world – he suspects she may never be – but it's such a relief to see her enjoying herself instead of simply moving through life. He'll probably be weak to that smile for a while.

They meet the other knights at the gate and then head out into the fields. Alois's voice booms over the group as he talks with a few of them, and Catherine entertains questions from a couple of starry-eyed students. Probably those who are aiming to become knights and idolize the idea of them. Jeralt knows the type; he's seen plenty of kids with the same hopeful look.

Byleth sets the students to building a couple of campfires, and soon they have healthy blazes going, the flames dancing in the evening breeze and lighting up the dark and cool atmosphere. A couple of the students volunteer to help Byleth with the fish, while others pass around snacks and the tall, quiet one unpacks more substantial foods to warm on the fire.

The meal's good – Jeralt can't complain about the quality of the dining hall food after some of the things he's eaten on the road, but someone in her group can sure cook. Byleth herself carefully monitors the fish on the fire until they're perfect, the way he taught her to, and brings a few over for the two of them. She drops to the ground next to where he's sitting with a couple of the other knights and starts to dig in to her own share.

There's nothing fancy about the fish, no secret blend of spices, but it tastes amazing. "You did a great job with this, kid," he tells her, and Byleth pauses halfway through her second fish to look up at him and smile again. Three expressions in one day. She really is changing.

Byleth gets up once in a while to look after her students – she reassures a shy one, chides another who keeps poking the fire like he wants to get burned, and asks one student if he's had enough to eat. But she always comes back to sit next to him, quietly listening as the students beg the knights for stories of adventures and chivalry, or tell their own tales of cleverness and ghosts at the monastery.

"Didn't there use to be only seven of them?" Jeralt asks at one point.

"There were," says Byleth. "But other students have started to ask to join my house." She puts a hand to her chin. "I spoil the ones from other houses, too."

Jeralt chuckles. "Is that what you're doing when I see you running around all weekend?"

"I've been trying a lot of new things with them," she says, linking her hands together around her knees. "They ask me for advice. I grow flowers and vegetables with them in the greenhouse. We started a chorus, so I sing together with them. And I have to prepare for the week's classes. There's a lot to do."

"Sounds like you're working as much as I am."

"Is it a lot?" she asks, tilting her head. "You're gone more lately."

"It's a lot, but nothing I haven't done before." He shrugs. "A lot more paperwork nowadays, a lot less freedom." He's not always comfortable with the missions Rhea sends the knights on, not like he used to be before Byleth was born. Some days he wishes hard that they had never set foot in Remire on that day a few months ago.

But when, hours later, they douse the flames and head back to the monastery so the students make their curfew, Jeralt watches how they surround Byleth. She talks with the prince for a few minutes, says something that makes him laugh; helps up a tiny girl when she trips and slams into the ground; turns her head this way and that as the students demand her attention, so many of them eager for it.

He doesn't trust Rhea or her plans. He wishes he knew what she'd done to Byleth all those years ago. But it's harder to regret being forced to return here as much when he sees Byleth interacting with people like this.

Jeralt slips his hand into one pocket, the most secure one, the one where he keeps his wife's ring when he's not on a mission. The metal is cold, and he traces along the outside edge, faintly feeling the carved grooves. It makes his heart ache for her mother, the woman who made him fall in love and who had finally convinced him that maybe he wanted a family after all his too-many years. Byleth had turned it over in her hands when he had shown her, turned it over and over and over before she had handed it back.  


There was a time when he wondered if she would ever be able to make use of this ring. Could someone who never smiled find love? Did his daughter, who only ever showed attachment by bringing him food and killing for her allies, even want to fall in love?

There's still something odd about her that makes her stand apart from the students chatting with her. But with the way she's been changing – the way she talks with them now already – he thinks that maybe someday she will.  


After they drop the students off, he walks with her the last few feet to her dorm. "Keep up the good work," he tells her when they pause outside her door, and she nods. He's never been one for many hugs, but tonight he wraps an arm around her.

She nods again, and then – for the first time in her life – instead of simply standing there in the hug, she slowly reaches up with one arm and hugs him back. Her face doesn't change, but the gesture is enough to make his heart skip a beat in surprise. "Good night," she murmurs.  


"You, too," he says, letting her go.

He has patrol duty tonight, so he starts walking, letting his feet take him without thought. Two decades into fatherhood, Byleth has hugged him back for the first time. Her covered emotional side is revealing itself more and more, in her actions and in her words; she's growing so much, becoming less like that poor baby who tore at his heart by never crying. It's a bright spot among the conspiracies and secret plans Jeralt is trying to figure out, and he couldn't be happier for her.


End file.
